


tenderly, quietly, all alone

by littleratboy



Series: soft spoken words for an irregular man [1]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Possibly Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-27 18:46:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19386823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleratboy/pseuds/littleratboy
Summary: There was nothing wrong with looking at men, he reasoned.There was something wrong with the way Spock looked at men.





	tenderly, quietly, all alone

Spock stood at the West end of the property, knuckles tight around the handle of his umbrella. He hadn't an excuse to go for a walk, truly. The habit he'd developed was new, formulated around their new neighbour. 

A horse ran across the field, parallel to the short wall of stones that marked the divide of their properties. It was white and speckled across the hips with a grey. In this rain, though, heavy and hard, it's coat was soaked through and dark. Up the legs of the beast, mud. It sprayed nearly to the belly as the horse ran. The rider was soaked too, both in rain and specks of wet earth. His coat flew out behind him. 

Spock’s heart was in his throat. 

The rider was James, “Just Jim, is fine.” he'd insisted when Spock was first introduced. Spock didn't dare consider him in such intimate terms, even in the privacy of his mind. 

Spock’s mother had invited him to dinner the week James moved in. Spock was short of breath until he retired early to bed that night. 

James rode nearly every evening, usually in sweeping rounds around his property, even out to the river. Spock didn't know how far he went then, he timed his walks just for these few minutes when James circled in this field, the horse wild between his thighs. During the day, she grazed in this pasture. Now, they ran a few circles before James lead her down on their ride. In a few moments, Spock would force his feet to move again, turn away and finish the circuit of his walk, the best part of it behind him.

Before Spock could force his eyes away, James was leading the horse straight at him. He stepped further away. Tried not to stare. Realized it made sense to look, when a horse was running at you, despite his anxiety of being caught… looking at a man.

There was nothing wrong with looking at men, he reasoned.

There was something wrong with the way Spock looked at men.

The way he looked at James.

“Hey!” He pulled back on the reins to stop her, but the ground proved too wet. Hooves planted in place, James slid through the mud towards Spock, spraying it up onto his trousers, coat, chin. Spock stepped back again. They had stopped short of the small wall, but he looked a mess. 

“Oh, God, sorry, you all right?” James’ face was torn between mortification and a laugh. Spock couldn't remember the last time he was so… far from presentable in public. “The ground, it's so slippery, God I'm sorry.” James dismounted before Spock could retort or defend himself and produced a kerchief from inside his coat. He climbed over the wall as Spock backed up, still not having formed a word.

James wiped off his chin. 

“I.” Spock cleared his throat. Now he was glued in place, joints locked. “I do have my own handkerchief.” 

That produced a chuckle, but the laugh slowed to a silent stop as they stayed frozen, James’ hand stilling. Through the thin kerchief, Spock could feel the wet chill of James’ leather riding gloves. One gloved finger brushed his cheek without the barrier of cloth, and that startled Spock backwards. “Thank you, James.” The rain was still falling, drops splashing heavy onto the umbrella and, now that Spock had stepped a respectable distance back, James’ hair, which was already matted down and dripping wet. Spock thought to himself that he wouldn't even look this wet stepping out of a bath. He stopped thinking that. 

“I need to finish my walk.”

“I like seeing you out here.” James didn't seem ashamed at all, speaking so openly when Spock couldn't even listen to his own thoughts without hating himself to the core.

Spock flushed and turned his head away. “You have quite a mastery of the animal. It's impressive.” 

“I've been riding since I was young.” James stepped back, wiped some of the dripping rain from his eyes with the rough woolen sleeve of his coat. “Do you ride? I haven't seen any horses on your property.” He stepped near and grabbed the horse’s reins, leading her over. “This is Enterprise, you could pet her, if you'd like? She's nice.”

“No, I don't ride.” Spock lied. He did ride, he had enjoyed it as a child, but now he was… out of practice. He wasn't good at it.

It would be embarrassing for James to ask them to ride together and see him out of practice. He wanted to look competent. 

Spock reached up and ran his palm softly over the nose of the animal, letting her smell his bare palm before he pet over her head, up between her eyes. 

“I could teach you.” James offered, his lips quirked up. Spock felt his cheeks warm. 

“That-”

“I mean it. Not today, but next time you come by, maybe,”

That would be highly inappropriate for a man of Spock’s… condition. He still didn't have a better word for it, despite the hours sitting quietly and thinking things over. “Maybe.” Spock repeated. 

James grinned, and a faraway flash of lightning lit him from behind.

“I, I should finish my walk.” Spock pulled away, moving at speed despite the rain-slick ground. He did not linger to let James see his cheeks burn, to catch his eyes wandering one more time, to hear some hint of indecency in any fumbled word.

“I'll hold you to that maybe!” James called, and Spock did not have to turn back to see his grin. A clap of thunder interrupted his next words. It rolled on, and the animal cried out. 

Perhaps, as he stripped off his coat, or as he bid his mother goodnight, or as he stripped and changed into his night clothes, Spock would imagine what else James wanted to say. Perhaps, when he sat on the edge of his bed and imagined that cold leather glove against his cheek, fingers tracing the distance to his lips, Spock would let himself pretend he'd let James teach him to ride.

Tomorrow night, after dinner, Spock would pull on his boots and grab his umbrella again. It had been thundering too much for Enterprise to leave her stables, and Spock would come back a few minutes early, more disappointed than he'd dare verbalize.

**Author's Note:**

> we love repression we love softness we love being gay in this household. go talk to me on tumblr im at talaxian.tumblr.com


End file.
